


Your Money or Your Life

by Annie46fic



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Highwaymen, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:16:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie46fic/pseuds/Annie46fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord Jensen Ackles has everything, money, position and power.  However, he does not believe in love.  Will a close encounter with a Highwayman change his mind and will it be only his jewellery that is stolen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Money or Your Life

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my LJ in 2008 - blame Adam Ant for this, I have a soft spot for highwaymen! 
> 
> Art was made by buff-iroh on LJ.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/annie46/pic/0000f3x9/)

Lord Jensen Ackles surveyed the party and decided that it was something he approved of. The women were beautifully dressed and the food was exquisite. The wine was of the finest vintage and the room was large and spacious.

Beside him, his wife Danneel stood proud, easily the most attractive woman in the room. She was tall and elegant, her long red hair hanging loose around her creamy white shoulders, her green dress showing off the color of her eyes. She wore the Ackle’s family diamonds; bright and sparkling, sitting upon her swan like neck and catching the lights so that they glittered and shone like stars.

Jensen believed that, at thirty, he finally had everything he had always wanted. He had his title, a stunning and obedient wife, a large estate in the Hertfordshire countryside and enough money to keep him content for the rest of his life.

Jensen had always been rich and privileged and he accepted it as his lot in life. His father and his father’s father were gentlemen farmers and they had made their money wisely and invested it well. Jensen had never had to work a day in his life and he was glad of it. For Jensen life was all about hedonistic pleasures and he indulged in them as much as he wanted and was able.

Jensen had several mistresses and knew he excelled in the bedroom. He had never had a moment’s complaint and he had made many women very happy. Jensen never looked for love, refusing to believe that such an emotion existed. No, for Jensen sex was all about lust, about the skills of hands and lips. For Jensen, sex was something to enjoy, something to do to pass the time. It had no relation to love or devotion and those who knew him, knew that they would never convince him otherwise.

The hour was growing very late and night was slowly turning into day when Jensen and his wife left the party. Their carriage was brought round to the front of the house and their host saw them off with a cheery wave and a long-standing invitation to return whenever they wanted. Jensen acknowledged this and said that he would be happy to come back. He kept his smile on the right side of genuine and when the man had turned his back and gone inside, Jensen bit his lip and gazed upon his wife, his mouth turning down.

“The man is a complete oaf,” he said and twisted his head so that he could gaze out of the window at the coming dawn.

***

Their carriage thundered through the countryside, the horses working up quite a sweat. The gray sky was turning blue and red streaked across the horizon. Jensen could feel himself dozing, drunk from wine and lazy with food. Beside him, Danneel kept her eyes on the passing trees, her own mouth opening in a delicate yawn, gloved fingers coming to cover her lips.

The horses gave a jolt and Jensen sat up suddenly, his neck aching from the position he had found himself in. The carriage appeared to be slowing and Jensen frowned, gearing himself up to speak to his driver, wondering why the man had thought it appropriate to stop here, in the middle of nowhere.

“Pull over!” Jensen heard the voice through the carriage window and he bit his lip, throwing open the carriage window and thrusting his head outside, looking up to the driver’s seat where his servant sat, his eyes wide with fear.

“What in God’s name?” Jensen began and then he saw the man in the center of the road and his breath caught in his throat.

The man was huge, seated on a jet-black horse, his black cloak billowing behind him in the breeze. He wore gray trews and long black boots covering his knees and skimming his thighs. His face was partially covered in a black mask, only the brightness of his eyes showing. Jensen could see the flash of white teeth in the gray morning light and the grin was one of a predator, eying up its prey.

“Stand and deliver,” the man’s voice was loud and firm and, for the first time, Jensen saw the two pistols in his hands. “Your money or your life,” the man concluded and he gestured his horse forward, steering it only with his strong thighs, the pistols gripped tight in large fingers as he brought the horse alongside the carriage and drew it to a halt.

“Good morning.” The man peered into the carriage, his face close to the open window. Jensen could see that his hair was, unfashionably, long and tied back in a rough ponytail. “And who do we have here?”

“I do not answer to ruffians,” Jensen was aware that his voice was shaking, despite his show of defiance. “I suggest that you step aside and let us pass.”

“Indeed.” The man laughed then, his teeth flashing, dimples deep beneath the mask. “And I suggest that you alter your tone and give me all I ask for.” He bowed his head and stared hard at Danneel. “Those diamonds for a start, my fine lady.”

“Jensen?” Danneel’s voice was barely a squeak and Jensen felt his stomach clench. He wanted to refuse but two large pistols were pointing at him and he realized that they had no choice, they were being robbed and there was little that Jensen could do about it.

“Give him the diamonds,” Jensen ground out, thrusting his hands beneath his thighs so that the man could not see them shaking. “Give him the diamonds, now!”

Danneel thrust trembling fingers into her hair and undid the jewels. She let them fall into her lap, glittering against the green of her gown. The masked man gave a grunt of satisfaction and slipped one pistol into his belt, holding the other at Jensen’s temple.

“They are fine, very fine.” Long fingers closed around the diamonds and he held them up to his face, eyes bright behind the mask. “The earrings too,” he added. “And any money you may be carrying.”

“You cur,” Jensen hissed, angry now, his hands in his pockets, pulling out notes and a few gold coins. “Here! This is all I have. Now please, let us free.”

“Of course.” The man took the money and deposited it in the sack hanging from his saddle. “My thanks, good sir, for I still do not know your name, you have been most generous but one last request if I may?”

“I have nothing else,” Jensen said. “Leave us be.”

“I require just one more thing.” The man bent closer so that his face was up against the open window, his teeth white against tanned skin, eyes flashing fire. “A kiss from those sweet lips,” he murmured.

“You will not touch my wife,” Jensen began but the man held up a huge hand and shook his head.

“You misunderstand,” he whispered. “Not her lips – but yours.”

Before Jensen could protest, the man had pressed his mouth against Jensen’s own, tongue curling out and wrapping around Jensen’s.

Jensen gasped into the man’s mouth, his body rigid. The man’s lips were dry, his stubble rubbing against Jensen’s delicate and clean shaven skin. Jensen felt something curling in his stomach. He wanted to think it was disgust but he knew he would be lying to himself.

“Thank you.” The man pulled back, grinning, his cheeks pink against the blackness of his mask. “That was most delightful. I have no doubt we will meet again.”

And with that, he kicked his horse into life and galloped away, sack of treasure slamming at his side, vanishing as if he were a ghost, swallowed up by the trees and the early morning mist.

Jensen watched him go and brought his fingers up to his lips, letting them linger there, his emotions warring with each other. He could feel Danneel’s eyes on him and he turned away from her to lean out of the carriage and order his driver to move on.

He could hear Danneel’s unspoken questions but he did not have an answer for her. All he could think about was what the man had said and he could not help but hope that his words had been true and that they would meet again.

And he could not explain that to her or himself.

*****

Jensen was angry. The diamonds had been in his family for decades and were now gone and there was nothing he could do about it.

Danneel wanted to call the King’s guard but Jensen won’t allow it. He tells her, it is because he thinks it will be a waste of their time but inside he is too embarrassed, too weak to do so.

The highwayman kissed him.

Not only that but Jensen had, to his horror, enjoyed the kiss. Even now he could not get it out of his mind, could not get the image of that face, eyes amused behind the black mask, lips dry and soft and oh so willing. Jensen shuddered, staring out of the window, unseeing. He could not call the King’s guard and tell them such a thing.

***

Restlessness forced him out of the house. He felt frustrated, hemmed in; Danneel’s eyes on him like a brand. He put on his finest riding clothes and stormed out to the stables, determined to ride out his annoyance.

He rode the length of his estate and beyond, the horse’s hooves matching the pounding of his heart. The wind whipped his hair about his face and he kicked the horse in frustration, driving it on faster and faster. Trees and houses flashed past him as he rode and he did not draw to a halt until he reached the woods at the furthest end of the town.

The woods were dark and deep, foliage thick and green. Jensen slowed his horse down and dismounted, his boots crunching in the fallen leaves at his feet. It was autumn and the air had a chill to it, the trees beginning to lose their leaves. Jensen sighed, biting his lip as he strolled along the crude path, his mind on his lost diamonds and the highwayman’s pliant mouth.

“Lord Ackles,” a voice, harsh and familiar made him freeze in his tracks and he whirled round to see the cur from his musings standing directly behind him.

As before, the highwayman wore a long black cloak, thigh length riding boots and a black shirt, open now at the neck, showing a vast expanse of tanned skin. His face was hidden behind the, now familiar, mask and his mouth quirked up into a grin as he saw Jensen’s expression, large hands coming up in a gesture of surrender.

“I am not armed,” the man said. Standing, he was immense, taller than any man Jensen had ever seen, his legs long, his body slim, his hair hanging loose now around his face, shining chestnut in the dappled rays of the late autumn sun.

“What the hell do you want with me?” Jensen’s fingers tightened on his horse’s reins and he stood stock still, his mind working frantically. He wanted to shout out, to wrestle the man to the ground, to do something, anything to apprehend the man. Instead, to his shame, he did nothing.

The man shrugged. “I had all that I wanted from you last night, my Lord.” He lowered his hands and sat down upon a fallen tree, his fingers resting lightly on his thighs. “You were more than generous.”

“I should call the King’s guards and have you arrested. You would be flogged for this or, even better, you could be hanged.”

“Indeed.” There was a flash of something in the man’s eyes, half-hidden as they were by the mask. “But you will not call the guards, will you? You could have done that a hundred times today but you did not.” He shrugged, nonchalantly. “Because you could not? Or would not?”

“I do not answer to thieves.” Jensen swallowed down the anger in his throat, his heart thundering hard in his chest, his stomach clenching. “You took things that were precious to me and to my family. You are nothing more than a low born dog.”

“Perhaps.” The man leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You did not need those fine jewels and neither did your haughty wife. There are others who need them more, for whom they could mean the difference between life and death.”

“Are you telling me that you took my diamonds to help others?” Jensen sneered. “You did not keep them for yourself?”

“I am telling you that and it is your choice whether you believe me or not,” the man’s voice was suddenly softer, almost gentle.

Jensen shook his head. His legs felt weak all of a sudden and he wanted nothing more than to climb back on his horse and ride away from here, forget he had ever seen the highwayman, forget they had ever had this conversation.

“Why did you kiss me?” The words burst out of his lips unbidden and he flushed, red stinging his cheekbones.

“Because I wanted to.” The man grinned again and Jensen saw dimples skim the bottom of the mask. “You are a beautiful man, Jensen.”

“You know my name?” Jensen felt his stomach clench again and he wished that he had never spoken, never dared to confront the thing that was bothering him, that had never left his mind since those lips had touched his own.

“You are one of the richest men in this county; of course I know your name. It was no coincidence that I robbed your carriage this morning.”

“You have me at a disadvantage,” Jensen said.

“You think I am foolish enough to tell you my name?” The man laughed then, genuine and bright, his teeth very white in his brown face. “Even though I find you fascinating. Fascinating enough to break my own rules and return to the scene of my crime.”

Jensen’s mouth was dry and he licked his lips, trying to gain some moisture.

“I think you should leave now,” he said, trying for haughty but sounding only vulnerable.

“Another kiss?” The man seemed amused and he stood suddenly, his long arms reaching out and snatching Jensen by the shoulders, pulling him closer before he could even protest.

This time he was held fast by strong arms, pressed against a hard chest, trapped there. He felt those soft lips on his own and his treacherous mouth opened to them, letting that exploring tongue in, his eyes flickering closed, sensations surging through him in a way that both shamed him and excited him.

The kiss deepened and held and Jensen found himself leaning into the man, as weak and willing as any wench. The man laughed a deep rumble that shook Jensen to the core.

“Your lips were made for sin,” the man gasped as they paused for breath. “You are truly the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on.”

Jensen felt his cheeks sting with heat and he tried to pull away. He was a man, a man who had been free with his body, who had given pleasure to many women, who had done exactly what he wanted with whom he wanted.

Now, though, he was the hunted rather than the hunter. He had never had feelings for another man before, never even looked at another man unless he was sizing him up as a rival.

He knew that there were men that lay together, knew that there were men who were shunned by society for their lusts and their needs. Jensen never believed he would be one of those men, but the highwayman had not just stolen his riches, he had stolen something else and Jensen was powerless to halt what was happening to him.

“Kiss me again,” the man’s voice was harsh now and Jensen felt the man’s hardness press against his hip. “Kiss me, again.”

Unable to resist, Jensen stood slightly on his toes and pressed his lips to the man’s mouth. He felt his own body responding, his breeches grow tight. The highwayman smelt of leather and earth, his long hair brushing against Jensen’s hot cheek, his big hands resting on Jensen’s waist.

Then it was over and the highwayman pulled away.

“Thank you,” he said, with a bow. “No doubt, we will meet again and I look forward to that meeting.”

Jensen leaned against his horse, legs hardly strong enough to take his weight. He watched as the man seemingly vanished into the woods, lost all of a sudden in the thickness of the trees.

Jensen mounted his horse again, stunned to silence, his anger muted, his body full of unwelcome longing, his cock hard in his silk breeches.

The highwayman had stolen more than his diamonds and his dignity.

He had stolen his heart.

****

Jensen did not want to go to Sir Michael Rosenbaum’s party but Danielle insisted.

“There will be people there,” she began. “Important people and it is good for our reputation to be seen at such an influential gathering.”

Jensen sighed. Usually he never said no to a party. He loved socialising, it was part of his life, a very big part. However, he seemed to have no enthusiasm for this particular party, his head too full of bright eyes and a soft mouth, big hands on his thighs and a hard cock against his hips. He swallowed, just the thought making him rise to the occasion. He turned his head away from Danielle and rubbed a hand through his hair.

“Get ready,” he said, briskly. “We will go.”

***

“I hear you were robbed.” Sir Michael leant back against the huge, marble pillar and smiled, his eyes full of mischief and fire. “And your poor wife lost her jewels.”

“You heard correctly.” Jensen felt his whole body tense and he bit back an angry retort, aware that the other men in the room, Rosenbaum’s cronies, were laughing at him behind their hands. “It was a most disturbing experience.”

“Did you not fight back old chap?” Thomas Welling, Rosenbaum’s best friend crowed. “I mean, did you not protect your wife’s honour?”

“The man was armed.” Jensen felt his cheeks sting and he rubbed a hand across his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. He could not let them know what really happened, could not let them see how much the highwayman had affected him.

“Mmmm.” Sir Michael winked at Welling, his lips forming a wicked smile. “And yet you have still not called the King’s guards. What stops you, Jensen? Do you want the thieving cur to go free?”

“Of course not, but he will be miles away by now, no doubt robbing some other poor victim.” Jensen felt his mouth go dry as the words came tumbling out of his mouth, jumbled and confused. Tom barked a laugh and Sir Michael shrugged.

“I hate thieves,” he said.

“Indeed,” another voice, one that Jensen did not recognise, interrupted the proceedings. “All thieves should be hung without trial.”

Jensen turned to see a slim, brightly dressed fop lounging in the corner. He wore a red satin tailcoat and matching breeches, ribbons holding up his light yellow stockings. His waistcoat was striped silk and his shirt a mass of white ruffles. He had a long, blond wig over his own hair and it hung around his shoulders. His face was painted, like a court dandy and he had a beauty spot over a mouth that was bright pink with gloss.

“My cousin, Jared,” Sir Michael said the name as if it offended him. “Down from the city to annoy me. He is friends with Beau Brummell apparently, but you would never know it to look at his fashion sense.”

“I’ll have you know that this is the high couture in London,” Jared gave a loud, braying laugh that made Jensen wince a little. “Although I realise that it is a little too much for you country types.”

“Poppycock,” Thomas sniffed. “We have our own standards, you know.”

“Standards? Huh. You let thieves go free, you give your servants half a day off a week, you let your workers have their own houses. Standards? You do not know how to live.”

“I threw one of my tenants out just this week,” Sir Michael said and puffed up his chest indignantly. “He was behind on the rent and begged with me because his wife was with child and his son was sick.”

Jensen felt his stomach clench and he gazed into his wine feeling suddenly nauseated. He realised he did not even know his tenants, happy to let others do his dirty work. He tried to imagine throwing a pregnant woman out of her home and he could not. He turned to Jared, hoping to God that he did not appear so shallow, as vain as the man before him.

“Do you think that that is something to be proud of?” he asked.

“Of course.” Jared took a pinch of stuff and inhaled it with a grunt. “All men must know their place, Lord Ackles and for those curs it is the gutter.”

Jensen took a deep breath and turned on his heel, his head pounding, the wine on his tongue sour and bitter.

“If you will excuse me,” he whispered. “I am going home.”

***

Danneel had known better than to question him. Now he lay in his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, listening to his wife snore beside him and feeling as if he might vomit up everything he had consumed.

He was sleepless, his mind working frantically, wondering when he had become such a shallow person, wondering how he had let things slip so badly that he was welcome to share the company of such idiots and fools.

He was barely dozing when he heard the soft sound of stones hitting his window. He lay still for a moment and then he slipped out of his bed and pulled back the drapes, astonished to see the highwayman standing there, beckoning to him.

There were so many reasons why he should not go down, but his heart was not listening to his head. He pulled on a pair of plain breeches, a white shirt and riding boots, then taking his warmest coat, he crept down the stairs and out of the house.

***

“What are you doing here?” He found himself embraced, held tight in strong arms and unable to move. The highwayman grinned, teeth white, eyes lively behind the black mask.

“I missed you,” he said.

“Shouldn’t you be out robbing someone?” Jensen was aware of sounding bitter but he could not help it. His mind was confused, his body rigid and aroused, his whole being consumed by the very presence of the man beside him.

“Is there someone I should rob?” the highwayman moved slightly, his lips against Jensen’s throat, grazing the soft skin with his teeth. “Someone you think deserves it?”

“Perhaps.” Jensen thought of Sir Michael and his mocking, Thomas and his sneering. “Are you asking me to join forces with you?” he said, amusement colouring his tone. “Help you in your dishonest work?”

“Would you like that?” The teeth dug deeper and Jensen hissed. “Does that excite you?”

“God, yes. Damn you, yes.” Jensen leant back into the warm embrace. He groaned as the highwayman placed his large hand over Jensen’s hardness, his own erection obvious against the cheeks of Jensen’s ass.

“Then tell me,” the hand became more insistent, pressing harder, making Jensen buck up “tell me a name and it will be done.”

“Sir Michael Rosenbaum,” Jensen could hardly speak, his throat dry, his heart pounding hard in his chest. He could feel his body grow hot, his stomach tighten, his whole body alight with passion and fire. He had never been touched in such a way, never felt such a firm grip, never been dominated like this before. “I want you to rob Sir Michael Rosenbaum.”

“Done and done.” Teeth came down and nipped his ear and Jensen moaned, his climax taking him by surprise, filling his breeches like a green boy. He slumped back against the strong body behind him, glad of that muscular chest, those whipcord arms. The highwayman stroked him through the aftershocks and then let him go, his mouth quirking in a smile.

“I wish that I could linger and take this further but I must be away. There is work to be done, Rosenbaum will not be easy but I like a challenge as you have seen.”

“Will you…will you come back again?” Jensen almost felt shame at the begging tone in his voice. “Will you come back to me?”

“There is no doubt my sinful one.” The highwayman smiled. “We are joined now, are we not? You are learning Jensen, you are learning and it is a bitter lesson but a fair one. I will see you again soon.”

Then he was gone again almost as if he had never been, a figment of Jensen’s wild and confused imagination, only the throbbing of his neck and the sated laxness of his body to tell him differently.

He swallowed and made his way back inside. Tomorrow, he vowed, he would visit his estate and his tenants and try to become a better man.

****

Jensen sipped at his wine. It was thick and red and made his cheeks feel warmer, gave him more courage. Beside him, Danneel sat silent, her eyes on him. He knew what she was thinking, knew that she was worried about him, concerned about his behaviour. He sighed. He did not have to answer to her but he felt as if he owed her something.

“I just need to see them,” he said, finally, “my tenants. I have never even thought of them before and – and it is time that I did.”

“Why?” She sighed and sipped at her own wine. A delicate hand reached out and touched his wrist. “Why do you need to see them now? Jensen, you are not yourself, perchance you might be feeling ill.”

Jensen bit his lip. He had not even lain with her these past few nights and he had no desire to. His thoughts, his dreams were filled with the mysterious highwayman, of his touch, his kisses, his bright, knowing eyes. Jensen knew it was wrong to think like this, to feel like this, but he could not help himself. He had become obsessed with the highwayman and he felt that the thief had stolen more than his diamonds.

“I am quite well.” Jensen finished off the wine with a swallow. “I am just going riding about my estates, nothing more. You should not concern yourself with me.”

Danneel sighed and turned away, her head bent over her embroidery. Jensen felt only a slight tinge of guilt, his mind on other things. He had too much to think about and worrying about his wife would only be a distraction.

***

Jensen had no idea that his tenants lived in such poverty. The houses on his estate were old and run-down, the thatched roofs full of holes, some of the walls crumbling. Families of five or more lived in one or two rooms and there was no privacy. Jensen swallowed down guilt as he watched one of his farmhands tending to his sick wife.

“You should take her to a physician,” Jensen said and the man stared at him as if he had run mad.

“Master I cannot,” he murmured, his eyes on the floor, shoulders bowed in respect. “I cannot afford a physician. I do not have the coins for medicine.”

“I see.” Jensen, remembered what Michael had said about his tenants and he shuddered. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of gold. “Here,” he said, handing the bag to the man who stared at him, slack jawed and astonished. “Take this and get your wife well again. It is the least I can do for now, but when she is well, come to the house and I will give you more. I will give you enough to fix your roof and to build a fire in your fireplace.” He wiped a hand across pink cheeks and watched as the man took the money, his whole expression one of complete gratitude.

“Thank you Master,” was all he said.

***

Jensen sat on a seat in his rose garden. The roses were nearly all gone now as winter was drawing near, but their scent still lingered. Jensen’s mind was full of what he had seen that day, of the run-down houses, of the suffering farmhands, of skinny, hungry children and the conditions in which they lived.

“You look troubled.”

Jensen’s head snapped up and he saw the highwayman before him. Today he wore all black, cape, shirt, breeches, thigh-length boots. His hair was tied up in a black ribbon and his eyes were soft behind the mask.

“I went to see my tenants,” Jensen whispered, ashamed of himself, ashamed of his weakness, his body’s reaction to the nearness of the highwayman. “Went to see how they lived. I am not too proud to tell you that I had no conception that they suffered so.”

“Indeed.” The highwayman dropped to his knees and rested his large hands on Jensen’s thighs. “But you did a good deed today did you not, Lord Ackles, you saved a woman’s life.”

“How do you know this?” Jensen looked up into slanting eyes, his fingers coming up and tracing the high bones beneath the mask, playing along those gentle lips, clasping the highwayman’s strong jaw and pulling him closer.

“I know a lot of things.” The highwayman smiled, letting his jaw rest in Jensen’s hands, “I make it my business to know.”

“I went to Rosenbaum’s party, listened to how he treated his servants, his tenants. Listened to his fop of a cousin telling me how all thieves should be hung. I cannot think like them anymore, I will not.” Jensen drew in a breath, “I have a conscience.”

“Ah Rosenbaum – his fate is almost sealed.” The highwayman smiled delightedly. “His riches will soon be shared amongst those he most hates.”

Jensen swallowed hard and reached up. He let his fingers play over the highwayman’s mask and went to lift it up, his voice heavy with pleading.

“Let me see you.”

“Not yet.” Big hands pulled his own away easily, as if he were a wench. “You are not ready yet, Lord Ackles.” He bent forward and pressed his lips against Jensen’s, probing his mouth with an insistent tongue.

“Then – then – give me something of yourself,” Jensen’s voice was harsh with passion, with want. “Love me.”

The highwayman drew a harsh breath and rose to his feet. He stared at Jensen for a moment and then he began to undo his buttons, his laces, the fastenings on his breeches. Soon he was naked before Jensen, only the mask remaining.

Jensen drew in a sharp breath. The man was beautiful. All long limbs and acres of skin. His chest was muscular, his waist narrow, his thighs taut. Jensen gasped as he stared at the man’s erection, at the way it curved onto his stomach.

“God,” he muttered as he began to fumble with his own clothing. “God you are beautiful.”

It was cold but Jensen felt nothing but warmth. He led the highwayman to the centre of his rose garden were the bushes joined together to form a canopy, a protection, a shield from the outside world. Together they lay upon the soft earth, hands pressed against eager young flesh, fingers caressing, lips hard against lips, a passion igniting in him that he was, until this moment, unaware of.

He had never lain with a man before and he thought it would be harder, that he would not be able to love a man in the same way in which he loved women. The man beneath him moaned in passion as Jensen touched him, opened up to him in a way that a woman had never done. The man beneath him guided his hands and then his cock and soon Jensen was inside him, moving within him, gripped by a hot, slick heat, driven by lust, passion and something deeper, something he did not want to think about.

He felt warmth and wetness on his stomach and this drove him to his own climax. The highwayman clutched his shoulders, bit down on his neck and ran his long fingers through his hair.

“I was right about you from the start Lord Ackles,” he panted, his lips close to Jensen’s ear. “You were made for sin.”

Jensen swallowed and laid his head on the other man’s shoulder, cold seeping into his body now, the warmth of his passion slowly fading.

“Lord Ackles, Jensen.” Big hands pushed him firmly away and, reluctantly, they rose, gathering clothing and dressing slowly, the daylight fading around them.

“Come to me again.” Jensen touched the man’s face again, tentively caressing the mask, his fingers probing beneath it.

“How can I stay away now?” The highwayman bowed over Jensen’s hand, kissing it as one would a faithful wife. “You have taken something of mine, Jensen and it is something precious, something I swore I would never give. You have taken my heart and it is yours to keep if you wish to.”

Jensen felt his throat close and he let his fingers tangle for one last time in that unruly hair.

“I will keep it forever safe,” he whispered and with that, the highwayman was gone again.

****

Jensen spent the next few days visiting his tenants. He knew that Danneel thought he was turning mad, that there was something wrong with him, but he ignored her questioning looks and telling sighs. He wanted to learn more about the people in his care, wanted to become a better person, less selfish, more rounded.

He could not stop thinking of the highwayman, could not stop thinking of their lovemaking, of their intimacy. He had had many lovers in his life but none like this, none that meant so much. It seemed odd, strange when he thought about it. He didn’t even know the man’s name, didn’t even know what he looked like. He tried to imagine the face that lay behind the mask, tried to imagine seeing those bright eyes uncovered in all their glory. He bit his lip and stared out of the window, gazing into the grounds. He wondered where the highwayman was now and if he was thinking of Jensen quite so hard as Jensen was thinking of him.

***

He and Danneel were eating dinner when they heard the frantic knocking at their door. He heard his butler talking and then he heard Sir Michael’s voice, harsh and frightened.

“I have been robbed!” Sir Michael all but staggered in, Thomas trailing at his heels. “Dear God, the cur has taken everything! My treasures, my jewellery, and my money.”

Jensen swallowed and bit his tongue to stop from smiling. Sir Michael looked pale and a little dishevelled, but he was in one piece and his tame lapdog was at his side as usual.

“You didn’t fight back then?” Jensen said, remembering how they had teased him.

“As you said, the cur was armed, two flintlocks and a knife if I recall.” Sir Michael slumped onto the chaise longue. “We were travelling back from the city when we were attacked, my luggage was taken, as was my watch and fob. He took Thomas’s money too.” He brushed a hand across his forehead. “I am calling in the King’s guards,” he choked out. “They will catch and hang the bastard.”

Jensen tried to keep his face impassive, panic welling in his chest. The King’s guard would leave no stone unturned and would try every trick in the book to catch the highwayman. Sir Michael was a powerful man with powerful friends and this latest theft would not go unnoticed.

“No one has caught him so far,” he said, finally, pouring Sir Michael some wine. “He seems a very elusive fellow.”

“I won’t rest until I see his corpse rotting on the gallows.” Sir Michael took the glass of wine that Jensen offered him. “Do you hear me? I will not rest till his bones are carrion feed and his heart is fed to wild dogs.”

Jensen swallowed, nausea unsettling him. He wished he could flee now and find his highwayman, warn him of these developments, but he had no idea how to find him, how to contact him. He stared at Sir Michael, at the man he had once called friend, and bit his tongue hard.

He would move mountains to keep his lover safe.

***

The King’s Guards were everywhere. They patrolled the roads, guarded the houses of the rich and strolled through the, once quiet, village. Jensen was helping one of his tenants build a wall around his property when he saw two of them, marching by in their smart uniforms, their eyes on everyone they saw.

Despite their constant presence, the guards were still no closer to catching the highwayman. He was as elusive as ever and Jensen missed him, unable to take consolation in the company of his wife and his friends, finding them shallow, unable to believe that he had once enjoyed himself in their circle.

***

Jensen was restless. The sun was shining, high in the cold blue sky. He pulled on his old breeches and boots and walked down to the stables wanting only to ride away his frustrations.

The stables were empty but for the horses and Jensen made his way to the stall, where his favourite stallion was kept. He was about to saddle up when he heard the muffled sound of footsteps behind him and a hand came over his mouth, a voice soft in his ear.

“Don’t make a sound.”

Jensen went limp instantly, leaning back into the embrace. There was the gentle huff of laughter, close by and then big hands came round and encircled his waist, pulling him back so that he could feel the hard thrust of the other man’s erection digging into his ass.

“I have missed you,” the voice hissed, harsh and familiar. “But things have been rather dangerous around here and a man has to keep a low profile.”

“They are trying to catch you,” his mouth was now free and Jensen found his voice, desperate and needy. “Please, please, you have to leave this place. You have to go elsewhere.”

“How can I?” Strong hands turned Jensen around and, finally, he was looking into the face of his lover, the black mask still firmly in place, eyes bright beneath it. “You are here.”

“Do not tarry just for me.” Jensen fumbled with the buttons on the highwayman’s white cambric shirt, frantic to feel the flesh beneath. “I do not want you dead.”

“Jensen.” Lips came down and kissed him hard and passionate. “Jensen, I have seen you change so much. You are becoming a better person, you are becoming as beautiful inside as you are out. I fell for your beauty the very first night I saw you but now, now, I am falling in love with you and I cannot leave you.”

“Then let me come with you.” Jensen pulled off his own shirt and breeches, pressing hot flesh against hot flesh. The highwayman moaned, his hands coming down and enveloping Jensen’s cock, his lips on Jensen’s hair, his neck, his chest.

“You are a gentleman – life on the road is hard. Could you turn your back on luxury, and become a thief?”

“For you – yes – yes, I could. Please.” He bucked into the highwayman’s clever hand, his orgasm building fast and furious. “Please.”

“Jensen,” there was such tenderness in that voice that it made Jensen’s heart beat faster, his throat tight. “My sweet Lord Ackles, I love you so very much.”

“Then let me come with you,” Jensen moaned and came, hot wetness seeping over the highwayman’s fingers. The highwayman panted hard and thrust his erection against Jensen’s hip, still biting down on Jensen’s flesh, leaving marks everywhere, marks that everyone could see. “Let me see who you are, please. Please, tell me who you are.”

“Not yet,” the highwayman hissed. “You are not ready yet for this. You must be patient.”

“Why must you hide from me?”

The highwayman mewled and spilled over Jensen’s stomach. He fell to his knees and buried his head against Jensen’s thighs, the mask scratching against them, the only barrier between the lovers.

“Because I have worked long and hard to become the man I am. To shake off the vain boy I once was and to be better, stronger, wiser. I was like you once, shallow and ignorant, but I saw such poverty in the city, such terrible things, that I could no longer live with myself. I wanted to help and what better way that to take from those who had so much and give to those who have so little.”

“Will you ever let me see you?” Jensen was aware of sounding childish, churlish. “Will you ever trust me?”

The highwayman pulled away and got to his feet. He dressed brusquely, not looking at Jensen, pulling on his boots and shirt, tying up his long hair and adjusting his mask.

“I do trust you, my Lord. I trust you with my love and my life. We will be together, but you must be patient. My work here is not yet done, when it is, if you still want me, we will ride away together. This I promise.”

Jensen swallowed and bowed his head.

All he could hope is that the highwayman would keep his promise.

****

Jensen felt powerless to do anything but try to act normally and not draw any attention to himself.

He went about his business, visited Michael and Thomas even though it repelled him and spent his days pretending to be the lazy, selfish person he had always been.

He watched the King’s guard prowl the town, guard the roads, watch the rich men’s houses. He did not see his highwayman and this alone made him restless and worried, his nights sleepless, his days long and endless.

He walked the ground of his house, hoping that the highwayman might suddenly appear as he had in the past. However there was no sign of him and Jensen began to think that he had taken Jensen’s advice and fled.

“Lord Ackles.” He was walking in the bright sunshine, his eyes on the road beyond his gates. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Jensen turned to see Michael’s cousin, the fop, leaning on his wall, his painted face expressionless, the blond of his wig almost yellow in the light of the day. He wore a beauty spot above his lip and another on his forehead and Jensen felt his heart sink, a shudder passing through his body.

“Indeed,” It did not sound too convincing, even to his own ears and Jared cocked his head to one side.

“You are not too pleased to see me then?” He drawled, lazily and Jensen gritted his teeth.

“I would have thought you would be protecting your cousin,” he said, finally. “Making sure he isn’t robbed again.”

“Oh, how boring.” Jared shifted so that he was closer to Jensen. “He certainly doesn’t need my protection, Lord Ackles. He has the King’s guards to take care of him.”

Jensen shook his head. The fop was close now, almost too close.

“Michael, is determined to catch the thief, you know? See him hung from the highest tree, see him jerk, jump, piss himself.” Jared laughed. “Would you like to see that spectacle, Lord Ackles?”

Jensen swallowed hard and bit his lip to stop from saying something he would regret. Instead he shook his head, lowering it so that Jared could not see his face, could not see the love so clearly written across it, the fear for his lover.

“Lord Ackles.” Jared was closer still and Jensen kept his eyes down, his hands twisting together. It took all his self control not to punch the vain and unpleasant cur and he wished that he was not such a gentleman.

“You think me shallow and vain do you not?” He laughed then, a low chuckle. “You do not need to answer or even look me in the face, I hear it in your voice and see it in your gestures but you need not fear me, Lord Ackles, Jensen, for I hate my cousin just as much as you do and I have enjoyed his distress these past few weeks.”

Jensen lifted his head and found himself looking into flecked hazel eyes. He held his breath for a long moment, not daring to believe what he was hearing or what he was seeing.

“Jared?” He said the man’s name for the first time. “Explain yourself.”

“Lord Ackles, open your eyes. Do you not see the truth?” Jared asked and there was something in his tone that Jensen found familiar. “I was once a callow boy who liked nothing more than to beat his servants and spend long, indolent days drinking and laying with whores. I am no longer that boy, Jensen. As you have reason to believe.”

Jensen gripped Jared hard by the shoulders, teeth gritted.

“What are you saying?” He whispered.

Jared smiled, gently and put his hand to his hair. He pulled off the foolish yellow wig and chestnut curls cascaded around his shoulders. Then he searched in his pocket and tugged out a lace handkerchief, wiping the white paint from his face until it was clean and bare, high cheekbones and slanting eyes, a soft sensuous mouth, a mouth that Jensen had kissed so many times.

“You….” Jensen felt his knees go weak and Jared caught him by the shoulders, pulling him close, his arms tight around Jensen, his lips buried in the older man’s hair.

“It was the only way that I could move among them without suspicion. Sir Michael, is my cousin and I was once like him but I said goodbye to this world for life on the road and I have never regretted it not until I met you. I love you Jensen but I knew I could not love you as _'Jared, the fop'_. So I wooed you as the man I really am. I am sorry that I have deceived you.”

“It is of no concern.” Jensen pulled Jared closer and kissed him hard. “I love you, Jared. I want you, no matter who you are.”

“I am relieved to hear it,” Jared’s voice betrayed his feelings. “Is your wife at home Jensen?”

Jensen heard the longing in Jared’s voice and he grinned then, happy and light.

“No, my dear, Jared, she is away visiting friends. Do you wish to come to my house?” Jensen dropped a kiss on Jared’s sinful lips and Jared sighed.

“Do you trust me with the silver, Lord Ackles?” Jared’s voice was smooth, soft, alluring.

“I trust you with my life, Jared,” Jensen answered and held out his hand.

****

The bedroom was dark, the heavy drapes drawn.

Jensen could make out the familiar figure on the bed and his mouth watered. He lowered himself over Jared’s naked body, lips on his neck, his nipples, his belly and then lower to his erection.

“Oh God, Jensen.” Jared’s eyes closed and his neck arched in abandon. “I thought I would never have this again.”

Jensen did not, could not speak. He pleasured Jared with his mouth until the younger man was bucking up in ecstasy coming hard.

“Love me,” he whispered when he had recovered his senses and Jensen did not need asking twice.

****

They lay hot, sweaty and sated in each others arms. Jensen stroked Jared’s hair, his fingers tangling in the chestnut locks.

“What are you going to do now?” Jensen asked, finally, his heart in his mouth.

“I cannot ride these roads,” Jared admitted. “I may have the courage of my convictions but I am no fool. The King’s guards are everywhere and if they catch me I will die and I have no wish to end my life, not now I have found you.”

“You miss it though.” Jensen could hear the sadness in Jared’s tone. “You want to carry on? You still want to ride the open road, t-to take from the rich and give to the poor.”

“You make me sound like, Robin Hood.” Jared laughed, pulling Jensen up for a swift kiss. “But yes, I do want to continue to help people and to make idiots like my cousin suffer.”

“There are other towns, other cities, other roads.” Jensen’s voice was barely a whisper. “And...and maybe you would be swifter, better if you had a partner.”

“Once, I thought you could not, would not, do that,” Jared said. “But now I am sure you could but do you want to? Do you want to join me, Jensen? Leave what you have here? Your wife, your title, everything?”

“Yes. I would do anything, go anywhere for you.” Jensen had never been so sure. “I have money, Jared. Money we could use. We could...we could buy a house somewhere. Live respectable lives, no one would suspect us.”

“It would not be easy.” Jared’s voice held caution but his face was open, his eyes bright with hope. “But, together we could do it. We could do it.”

“When can you leave?” Jensen laughed then, no fear for the future.

“Today.” Jared smiled. “I will tell my ‘beloved’ cousin that I have business elsewhere. I am convinced he will be glad to see the back of me but what of your house here? Your wife?”

“She can have the house, we do not love each other. She is beautiful and vain enough to have another husband by next summer.” He took Jared in his arms and kissed him. “My money and assets are in a bank, I can trust and in my name only, no one but me can touch it. Danneel will have enough to live off and she will not look for me, as long as she is able to live in comfort.”

“You would do all this for me?” Jared sounded unsure but Jensen kissed him again and again and Jared was finally convinced.

****

Two year’s later

Thomas Welling had to travel to York on business. It was late at night and he hated riding along these deserted roads even in a stage coach with others.  
He was dozing when the coach draw to an abrupt halt, the driver crying out in panic as Thomas heard a voice cry out.

“Come out of the coach with your hands up. Do as we say and you will come to no harm.”

Thomas alighted, fear surging within his gut. He peered through the darkness to see two men astride sweating horses. Their faces were obscured by black masks and they were heavily armed.

One of them dismounted and ambled over to Thomas, his hand outstretched, the pistol in his other hand pointed direct at Thomas’s heaving chest.

“Your money or your life, sir. I am sure you know which you value most.”

Thomas felt his heart leap and he frowned. The voice seemed familiar and the bright green eyes that flashed at him within the mask looked memorable too.

“Do I know you, sir?” Thomas tried to keep his voice from trembling.

“Indeed not.” The man smiled, his eyes growing cold. “You think that I would fraternize with rich curs such as you?” He thrust the pistol harder to Thomas’s chest. “Now give me what you have and we will let you go.”

Thomas handed over his money and his watch and then watched as the man emptied the pockets of all the coach’s inhabitants, smiling all the time.

Thomas was allowed to board the stage coach again and he did so with great relief. As he peered out of the window, angry, frustrated and afraid, he saw the man remount his horse and, to Thomas’s disgust, kiss the second man, hard and passionate, arms around the other’s necks, their horses moving closer together as they embraced.

It was not until the coach had traveled another few miles when Thomas realized whose voice he had heard, whose eyes had burnt into his soul and he shuddered, wondering if he had seen a ghost.

****

Jared sat at the dining table dressed in casual but fine clothing, his hands running through the gold that Jensen had taken on that night’s raid. Beside him Jensen drank from his goblet, savoring the sweet wine, his eyes on Jared’s face full of love.

“When I first met you,” Jensen mused, “you told me that it was money or my life but in reality you took both and I am eternally grateful for it.” He leaned forward and kissed Jared then, his eyes bright. “And I will never regret it my love.”

“Then I am truly rich,” Jared mused. “And a very good thief, because to steal someone’s heart is not an easy thing and that makes you a good thief too, because you have stolen mine.”

“And I am not returning it,” Jensen said as he held out his hand for Jared to take. “For it is mine, to keep.”

Jared smiled and took his hand.

“Then let us to bed my sinful, Lord Ackles for tonight we have yet more riding to do.”

End


End file.
